


In the Devil's Care

by Talliya



Category: Gundam Wing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3590892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talliya/pseuds/Talliya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young boy flees to a castle with nothing but its hideous legends to lead him, and the Nords rampaging through his village chasing behind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any rights to Gundam Wing or its characters. This work is not for profit.

Running from the Nords who were currently still ransacking his village the boy headed for the old castle in the distance. There were legends about the three towers that pierced the sky, one of some pink stone, another of green and the third so white it hurt the eyes to look at it in daylight. But the youngster pushed them all to the back of his mind, he couldn’t afford to slow down, he could hear the footsteps and horses’ hooves chasing him. The only thing he could think of was that he would be safer inside the black belly of the castle with its colorful towers than he was outside of it at the moment.

There was a ravine before the castle’s grey curtain wall that generally discouraged the courageous fools who aspired to gain the treasures that surely were there. Even running for his life the boy rolled his eyes at such foolish thinking. There were no legends about treasures, only hollow deaths, and people turning into vampires and demons for invading the grounds. Though the legends never said why or how such things were done, they just mentioned the end affect. There were no tales of what actually lay inside the obsidian walls of the castle itself or its towers, just what had come out of them in the past. This is what lead him to keep going, that it was all hearsay of those who had come back out. For the foreseeable future, he wouldn’t be coming back out. The ravine was coming fast, he knew there was a drawbridge that lowered across it from the gate, he could see the wood of it in the distance. But what he wasn’t sure about was how to get the castle to lower it.

Stumbling to his knees at the edge of the ravine where it looked like the locking mechanism for the drawbridge was set he frantically looked around him for anything that would call to the castle. He saw nothing. He hung his head in defeat as the hooves and footsteps grew closer, more slowly now that he had stopped, but still oncoming. “Please.” He whispered into the air. He didn’t know who he was asking, only that he was asking for help, for a way to survive. The drawbridge lowered silently, if the air of it whooshing down past his face hadn’t alerted him, he never would have known.

Men screamed and hollered and the sound of galloping horses renewed itself. The boy sat there staring for a few seconds before instinct took over again and he was up and running across the wood; his footsteps silent.


	2. 2

Disconcerted by the child’s silent footsteps as he raced across the wooden drawbridge the Nords behind him faltered slightly. A few who were already close on the boy’s heels continued to run after him, they didn’t know who lived here or if they were someone who would help the village beyond or not. They could not risk aide being delivered to their newest stomping ground. Their footsteps too were silent and they heard nothing but their own breathing, not even those who ran beside them. Those who hung back due to the uncanniness of the silence scattered when a voice boomed from all around them, seemingly from within their own minds: “Leave! This place is forbidden!”

Those already on the bridge heard nothing. The boy cleared the wood and kept running, the flagstones under his feet lending more traction to his loping gait. He ran around the corner of a building and paused. He risked a look back around and saw two men, but only two men, still chasing him. Figuring he could lose two people easily he took off again, aiming for the castle doors he could see beyond several more outbuildings. The silence still held, the flagstones making not a sound under three sets of pounding feet, the Nords yelled for the boy to stop, threatened him, his family, his future children...but the air seemed to swallow their voices before they emerged. They yelled themselves silently hoarse before they had made it halfway across the wide courtyard - a gigantic fountain with dolphins spouting tinkling water all that lay between them and the boy who continued his charge to the large doors of the castle. The guards paused...tinkling water? They stomped their feet, still nothing, yet the water they could hear clearly. Distracted by this they flinched (as did the boy) when they heard the screeching of tired hinges moving. The door to the castle opened before the boy and like a hare who had caught the scent of a wolf, he dashed inside.

The door closed behind him with a shriek and he was in utter darkness. A draft blew through the hallway seeming to push him along, so he went with it, walking slowly so that if he ran into anything it would hurt less. Deeper and deeper into the bowels of the dark castle the wind took him, guiding him around corners and furniture alike. Bringing him to a giant room with windows set high on the walls. It seemed the sun was setting out there in the world...

“Come hither boy,” Duo’s voice crackled through the stagnant air of the castle. The sound sent shivers cascading up and down the boy’s spine and made his face go white with sudden fear. The small redheaded boy turned his freckled face toward the dais of the central court room into which he had just stumbled. His blue-green eyes full of fear he rested them on the shadows that claimed the throne upon that high platform, just barely able to make out a slight green light from the darkness he moved on shaking limbs as bid.

As the frightened boy neared, the god of death smiled - it was a look both cold and calculating as well as warm and heartfelt. If the poor boy had been able to see it, he probably would have fainted. Duo was lounged across the old stone carved throne; one leg dangling over an arm and his long braid resting itself on the marble floor as he leaned his head on a hand resting on the opposite arm, his other leg tucked gracefully beneath him, a soft green glow emanating from a jewel affixed to the center of his forehead - a testament to his power. The god was dressed in a loose fitting burnoose the color of the night sky, the strange clothing was like nothing the young boy had ever seen. “So young Weston, you have finally heeded my call?”

His voice was soft and nonthreatening, but its coldness sent a shiver down the boy’s back. It was more a statement than a question, yet the boy was confused, “Your call?” He was surprised his voice worked at all with the fear clogging it and eerie silence this place held.

“Yes, my call. I have been trying for two years now to get you to come here.” Duo huffed, “I am in need of your help.”

The boy flinched slightly at the rebuff but looked back up at the god in confusion and fear.

“You need not fear me young Weston, I have but a task for you.” Duo’s mysterious voice carried to him like a whisper making him shiver. “You have a gift, one that has frightened you throughout your young life, but it is a GIFT. Not something to fear. It is the use of this gift that I would ask of you.” The boy was suddenly calm, no longer afraid of who he knew to be a god before him, which was odd considering how much this said ‘gift’ scared him. “You see Weston, there is far too much death happening in the world for my taste. What with the Nords, the Vikings, the Mongols, the Roman Legions, the Gauls…” He trailed off with a sigh. “The afterworld cannot process the spirits of the dead quickly enough. So those poor souls remain in the living world and the longer they remain the more malevolent they become and then they start attacking the living. Which you unfortunately know.”

The boy nodded his head sadly, he could hear the dead, always screaming about how they died or how they weren’t ready for death, how they envied the living. A ghost had killed his older sister when he was five: he had started running in the opposite direction of any wailing he’d heard after that, inspecting such things was forever ingrained in him as a bad idea.

Duo stood up gracefully to his seven foot two inch height and flowed down the dais steps to the boy, “I will give you the mark of the Lynx. This symbol will protect you as you go about correcting what I cannot.” He touched a hand to the boy’s left shoulder blade and Weston’s skin burned as if brushed by a passing flame.

Startled the boy asked, “What is that I can do that a god cannot?”

Duo smiled at him as he resumed his seat on the throne, “You can roam in mortal lands. You can gather the spirits of the dead and take them to safe houses. Now there will be many different places where the dead can go to be protected from going bad while I try to process them all. But there are many different religions and beliefs so certain spirits can only be safe in certain places. Do you understand?”

Weston nodded carefully, “I understand. But how will I find such places?”

Duo’s eyes gleamed and the jewel centered in his forehead gleamed a brighter green, “The mark I have given you will color code the safe houses. It will be up to you to figure out what belief or way of life they represent and how to get the ghosts to go into them however.”

The boy nodded and Duo rose again and came down the steps and began walking toward the open archway that Weston had stumbled his way through, the boy followed sedately. But he had to ask, “Um… why is it that sound works in here?” He had noticed the rustle of cloth when either of them moved and his own footsteps made sound, though the god’s bare feet did not, and of course their voices worked.

Duo grinned down at the boy, “This is the palace of the God of Silence, only the throne room is not under his control.” Here his grin faded into a frown, “Because it is basically my prison. I am not allowed to leave this room when I come to the mortal realms.”

“Which is why my help is needed?” The redheaded boy replied.

“Exactly why.” Duo answered him. “We all go by many names, but we work in tandem to keep the world in some form of order. If we could just reach Heero or Wufei…” He trailed off shaking his head, the boy having no idea what he was talking about. “Go young Weston, the Nords who followed you have been taken care of, Trowa does not take well to trespassers. My mark will keep you safe: at least from the dead and other god’s mischief.”

The boy nodded and head back out into the hallway, the wind pushing at him again as he flowed into the now even darker passages on his way out of the castle.


End file.
